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^RAMBLING^ 
REMINISCENCES 




^1 EUGENE ♦ K ♦ B IRD fl^ 




A fHlicy, liyd. H. von (inll»rlmlk 



Rambling Reminiscences 



AN INTIMATE EXCURSION THROUGH 
THE HIGHWAYS AND BYWAYS OF 



OI^D HACKENSACK 



By EUGENE K. BIRD 

ii 

Editor of The Hackensack Republican 



Cover design by Mira Marie Royle 



19 2 2 






Copyright, 1922 
By Eugene K. Bird 



Press of 

The Hackensack Republican 

Hackensack, N. j. 



aCU6o9038 






The Home-Town Lure. 



If I wuz back 

In Hackensack 
Whair all my folkses live, 

There's not a blame 

Thing y' c'u'd name 
'At I jes' wouldn't giv'. 

In Hackensack 

If I wuz back, 
They'd welcome me, I 'low. 

"Ef thet hain't Jake," 

They'd say; "Why shake. 
Whair be y' livin' now?" 

I hain't kep' track 

O' Hackensack 
Sence I lef years ago; 

I bet, by gum! 

Th' town's grow'd sum 
An' spruced up like, y' know. 

Th' skeeters thair 

'Ud raise yer hair, 
An' gosh, but they kin bite; 

Y' dassent sleep 
Onless y' keep 
Awake th' hull dern nite. 

I jes' git blue, 

Yes, sir, I do, 
T' see ole Hackensack; 

An' sum fine day. 

Not fur away, 
Y' bet I'm goin' back. 

— Ohio State Journal 



RAMBLING REMINISCENCES 



Gentle reader, meek and mild, 
Innocent as simple child, 
In these pages you will find — 
If you seek with open mind — 
Wondrous fund of wayback lore, 
Wand'rer-garaered door to door. 
Fact and legend fair you'll see 
Correlated. All agree 
Those who made the old home town 
Saw that things were "done up brown." 
Each had joy and sorrow, grief; 
Sow'd wild oats and reap'd — in brief, 
Car'd no jot for Time's grim wrack: 
Just liv'd and died in Hackensack. 



Rambling Reminiscences. 



You may not desire to sing the old songs they sang long years ago, 
but there is something in annals of the past that revives dormant 
memories, and causes forgotten scenes to pass across the mental vision, 
repeople deserted places and refresh lagging recollection of localities, 
individuals and events. Who does not take at least a passing pleasure 
in narratives of those far-removed days when Father and Mother, then 
as young as their grand-children of today, were "Sitting in a corner, 
on a Sunday eve, with a taper finger resting on your sleeve"? It is 
dangerous to quote, but a chance is taken on the accuracy of the old 
song lines. And this is a reminder of a story of the Inquisitive One, 
who asked, "What is the most common misquotation in the English 
language?" The Purist answered: "When Greek meets Greek, then 
comes the tug of war." "Well, what is the matter with that?" asked 
the Inquisitive One. 

"That is the most common misquotation in the English language," 
responded the Purist. "I heard the late Roscoe Conklin say once that 
he won a basket of wine from Clement L. Vallandigham on that quota- 
tion. He wagered that Mr. Vallandigham could not tell what the cor- 
rect words were, nor who wrote them, nor when they were written. 
And he won on every point. Now, put yourselves in Mr. Vallandigham's 
place. What would you have done?" "I should have declined to make 
the bet," said the Inquisitive One. 

"And I," "and I," came from all parts of the room. "But I should 
not," said the Purist, " 'When Greeks joined Greeks, then was the tug 
of war,' is the correct quotation. It was written by Nathaniel Lee, an 
Englishman, about the year 1700." "Did you ever see it quoted cor- 
rectly?" asked the Inquisitive One. "Never in the newspapers," said 
the Purist. 

But here is a quotation the accuracy of which is vouched for: "I 
love everything that's old. Old friends, old times, old manners, old 
books, old wine." And long before Goldsmith wrote the sentiment in 
his way it was uttered by John Webster in this wise: "Is not old wine 
wholesomest, old pippins toothsomest, old wood burns brightest, old 
linen wash whitest. Old soldiers, sweetheart, are surest, and old lov- 
ers are soundest." Old people find their greatest delight in comparing 
Then and Now, their Yesterday with our Today, to the disadvantage 
of the newest era, in their reckoning. Aided and abetted by some of 



these Ancients, the penman invites the reader to take the wayback 
Hackensack trail and indulge in a few Rambling Reminiscences of 
"the days when we went gypsing, a long time ago." 

Some will doutbless. philosophise over certain information here 
imparted; others may criticise and question the accuracy of occasional 
references. If these notes are not sufficiently letter-perfect in their 
hap-hazardness to gratify an occasional esthetic soul, such pei"fection- 
ists must make the best of it. There is nothing esthetic about the in- 
cidents here transferred to white paper. So, without qualm or 
blush, or the tremor of an eyelash, these more or less intimacies of 
other days shall proceed to take their more or less appropriate place 
among the annals of Our Village, which we count as the loveliest in all 
the Jerseys. Cavilers may indulge their captious carpings — as Charles 
Battell Loomis once said when defending the fair name of Hackensack 
from the shafts of the common herd that saw something in the historic 
name upon which to crack a minstrel jcke — "and be damned to 'em." 
Those who remember Mr. Loomis will hold his memory blameless for 
an apparent undue vigor of expression, knowing that the provocation 
was great. 

If "those people are most happy whose annals are vacant," Hack- 
ensack should be a home of the blessed; for the old town has little 
record of its very earliest times, and less that can introduce us to 
the life and habits of those who constituted the first settlers of the 
wilds of East Jersey. The name Hackensack, according to official rec- 
ords of the United States, was spelled in twenty-two different ways, 
the same being examples of orthography which would require a bold 
penman to reproduce off-hand; but there is nothing remarkable in this, 
as any reader of official documents in the county clerk's office may 
learn. Even lawyers and others presumably learned men took scan- 
dalous liberty with the spelling of locality and family names, well 
within the present century. Perhaps Voltaire was too truthful when 
he wrote that "History is only the register of crimes and misfortuntes," 
and it may account for the lack of refei'ence to this sparsely settled 
territory in its remotest days. Local history, what there is of it, is 
practically church history, and that is centered in the First Reformed 
(Dutch) Church, affectionately called "The Old Church on the Green." 

Hackensack was named after a division of the Unami Delaware 
Indians, who roamed this territory long before the advent of the white 
man who, with his rum, religion and roguish propensities, robbed thein 
of their land; then the Red Man indulged his inborn predilection for 
collecting scalp-locks. The records tell us that the first known refer- 
ence to Hackensack makes allusion to it as a trading post in 1640, two 
hundred and eighty-two years ago. Then the film broke and the 



name floated in invisibility until it hit the screen again in 1686 — it was 
a sort of lost Atlantis for forty-six years, and found itself in the 
annals of the Dutch Church. The mystery of these years will never be 
fathomed; it is as obscure as the secret of the Great Pyramid. The 
Church was imported from Holland, with all the Dutch vices, jealousies, 
contentions, bigotry and fanaticism. Men came to the New World 
to escape intolerance and religious persecution only to set up here an 
equally insufferable ecclesiastical rule. 

But this is not to be accepted as evidence that i-eligion is all bad. 
If you steer clear of sectarian Scylla and fanatical Charybdis there are 
chances of sailing under smiling skies, before fair winds, and reaching 
a happy haven beside summer seas. However, it was the Church that 
gave birth to Hackensack, and despite many disadvantages, including 
a variegated orthography and natural vicissitudes of the forest, the 
settlement of 1686 grew until it now has nearly 18,000 souls for the 
census man to count. It is as well to ignore the long period of religious 
strife between "Coetus" and "Conferentie" parties, which resulted in a 
denominational split and establishment of the True Reformed Dutch 
Church locally known as the "Seceders," most of the members of which 
body have affiliated with the Presbyterian Church. On that subject it 
is vdsdom to "let the old cat die," and com.e down to a period well 
within the memory of that ancient of days, the Oldest Inhabitant, who 
is cheerfully credited with much of the information contained in 
these lines. 

Thus the excursion into the realm of intimate research of life in 
Hackensack begins on March 6, 1858, sixty-three years ago, when Wm. 
C. and O. D. Kimball, printers, issued the first number of the Bergen 
County Journal, a local newspaper v/hich, for its day, was equal to any 
periodical now published in Bergen county. At that date the Northern 
railroad construction was just placed under contract, means of travel 
to the city from the Northern and Hackensack Valleys being by stage 
or private conveyance. People journeyed from Hackensack to New 
York by way of Hoboken, to which point they were conveyed by the 
stage of Richard A. Doremus for 37% cents; the time consumed be- 
tween the two points was three hours, including many stops and no 
hold-ups. Isaac Hamilton, superintendent of schools for New Barba- 
does township (then including Midland), reported 788 children of 
school age in the seven districts under his jurisdiction, with only 37^4 
per cent, in regular attendance. Male teachers were paid an average 
salary of $397 a year; females, $174 — note this, you pauper-paid teach- 
ers of today. Mr. Hamilton said in his report: "Spelling, reading and 
writing do not receive as much attention as their importance demands, 
whilst more than is necessary is devoted to arithmetic and grammar, 



or the exercise called parsing." This for the information of present- 
day educators. 

The Journal refers to a remarkable political battle in Lodi at this 
time (sprin? elections always aroused bitter contentions) between 
Robert Rennie, "Black Republican abolitionist," and John Van Bussum, 
Democrat. Excitement ran so high that "even the slavery question 
was ignored," and many citizens were horrified when it became known 
that a white Democrat was defeated by a black Republican. Mr. Van 
Bussum, who because of his shrewdness and skill as a political leader, 
became known as "The Swamp Fox" and his followers as "Swamp 
Angels," is still living at an age verging upon ninety years. They 
were "swamp angels" because many of them lived in the low swamp 
land called "The Risers," a name the significance of which has never 
been clearly explained by scholar or native legend. In these way-back 
halcyon days Dan Kelley and other hotel men sold liquor on Sunday 
and when convicted paid $20 for violating the law; which indicates that 
it was ever thus with the liquor traffic — never satisfied with legitimate 
trade. 

Here enters a bank mystery, always an absorbing topic. Hacken- 
sack has had sevei'al and this earliest one should not be permitted to 
escape the chronicler: On a certain day a truckman drove into the 
slumberous town with a large safe on a truck and asked loungers 
around the Mansion House for the "Stock Security Bank." There was 
a pricking up of ears, but the most brilliant gossip of them all was 
baffled by the mystery. Even Editor Kimball, appealed to as the town 
directory, scratched his head in vain, and admitted ignoi-ance until he 
visited the county clerk's office and found the concern officially re- 
corded. Under these trying conditions the truck driver was excused 
for the vigor of his exclamation, "What a hell of a bank is it when 
nobody knows where it is?" And one is not surprised to learn that the 
bank belied its name "Security" by "busting up" in six months, as the 
Journal informed its readers. 

Editor Kimball, we take it, was more popular than some of his 
successors of the craft in the town, for it is of record in various issues 
of his Journal that he was serenaded by the church choir; also that 
he received sundry pies and cakes from "Mr. Shuman, the village 
bakei'." Music seems to have had charms for soothing the weary brain 
of the overworked editor, if he is to be judged by the manner in which 
he acknowledged all the melodious courtesies showered upon him. 

At this period "The Green" was a subject of acrimonious conten- 
tion between the Church people and common citizens of the town. 
The people wanted the spot enclosed with a railing; the consistory ob- 
jected and combatted; but the people won out and contributed $200 



for the iron railing. This led Editor Kimball to manifest his satisfac- 
tion in these glowing words: "It is our duty as Christians, as citizens 
of Hackensack, as lovers of the beautiful, to insist upon the improve- 
ment of this spot. It is to Hackensack what the Common is to Bos- 
ton, what the Central Park will be to New York." So the gnarled and 
knotted old willows that had stood for a century or more were re- 
moved and new trees planted, some of them standing today. Those 
old willows, by the way, were landmarks in many parts of t?ie town 
and were familiar until within a very recent period. As to tb.e rela- 
tionship of the Green predicted by the vision of enthusiastic Editor 
Kimball critics will be circumspectly considerate. 

During May, 1858, there was at least the incipience of a building 
boom in the to\vn; for the editor tells of a visit to "The Corners" (Main 
and Passaic streets), and the pleasure he experienced at finding two 
houses being built on River street by G. M. Anderson, "nearly opposite 
his own spacious and elegant mansion." Anderson and Ward streets 
were opened from Main to River street, and Anderson street bridge 
was subsequently built. 

Because of the prominence and popularity of the bridegroom we 
make reference to the record of the marirage, by the Rev. Alexander 
Warner of the First Reformed Church, of David Ackerman Pell of 
Saddle River and Catherine Ann, daughter of John J. Ackerman of 
New Bidge. At the present date Mr. Pell is the oldest living ex-sheriff 
of Bergen county; he was the first Republican to be elected to that 
office. On the 11th of July, 1921, he celebrated his ninetieth birthday 
and received hundreds of friends. 

"Uncle John" B. Zabriskie, first letter carrier of Hackensack, is 
now bowing to the reader. Uncle John was a village character, con- 
fiding and more strongly entrenched behind the Golden Rule than many 
of the citizens who employed him to carry their mail and never paid 
for the service. His hat was his mail bag, and he was on duty daily 
regardless of weather; provided, there was no Sunday school picnic 
scheduled; for it is recorded in The Journal that on the occasion of the 
Methodist picnic there would be no mail delivery by the private car- 
rier. Uncle John had his price — ice cream tempted him and he fell. 
That the sweet has lost none of its alluring seductiveness is amply 
testified in this day. The first uniformed letter carriers in town were 
Garret Campbell, Abram Burr and Charles Granholm. 

Professor Andrew Jackson Devoe, the local weather prophet, with 
many other readers, will be interested in this reference to the last 
week in June, 1858 — it is the temperature as recorded by Wm. Greig 
of Lodi, who kept a weather record: 102, 102, 102, 103, 101, 94. During 
this same week the strawberry season reached its highest point — 



Captain Dick Hawkey reported that 1,100 wagons carrying 1,500,000 
baskets of the delicate berries passed the Second tollgate, of which he 
was the keeper. The perfume of the fragrant fruit spread far abroad, 
and this record shipment was subject for general conversation. 

"O. B." wrote to The Journal in May "a few thoughts on our beau- 
tiful village, which has remained in status quo for nearly half a cen- 
tury." There were no animating diversions: no circuses, no minstrels, 
theatricals, movies or vamps to give life to the monotony of bucolic 
existence — nothing but choir concerts, picnics, straw rides in winter, 
apple parings, husking bees, spelling matches, and quilting parties 
from which happy swains "saw sweet Nelly home." This writer said 
that the prevailing peace was so intense that "lawyers could not incite 
the people to contention during six days nor the preacher keep them 
awake on the seventh." From which it is inferred that there has al- 
ways been a sympathetic and soporific relationship between pulpit and 
pew. 

Independence Day, 1858, was celebrated in a manner to arouse 
the liveliest patriotic enthusiasm. "Old Bergen," the ancient cannon 
used to make the "big noise" on all special occasions, contributed a 
boom for every star on the flag, "while almost every one was firing 
cannons, guns, pistols or fire crackers," and "there was never before 
so many persons within the limits of our village." The parade show^ed 
the Rifles "much improved in their new plumes," the Continentals 
"executed the maneuvers with the precision of veterans." and the 
colonel and staff, "uniformed according to army regulations, made a 
gallant appearance on their gallant steeds"; as for the Union Brass 
Band, its music was heavenly. In those days they read the "Immortal 
Declaration," and the orator had the American Eagle scx'eaming and 
flitting from crag to crag. The fireworks, made in Hackensack by 
Henry J. S. Hall, a resident, were marvelous, and this was the grand 
finale: "Of mosaic fires, ninety feet in length, enclosing the glorious 
era of national independence — 1776 — decorated with scrolls of colored 
fires inclosed by batteries of colored roman candles, forming an arch 
over the whole piece, terminating with a grand fl.ight of rockets, 
serpents, etc., and feu de joie." The Spirit of '76 had not been retired 
to ccld storage in 1858 by a New America eager to cater to new 
thoughts antagonistic to sentiments handed down by the makers of 
the Republic — nothing must be done in these present days that may 
possibly ofl'end the sensibilities of foreigners within our gates: we 
must even eliminate from our patriotic songs lines calculated to grate 
upon the sensitive ears of an alien who can vote and must therefore 
be treated gently. 

In April, 1861, Editor Kimball of The Journal went to "the seat 

6 



of war with Company K, Second regiment, with eight or nine other 
persons from Bergen county." He returned temporarily the following 
August, and resigned his editorship in patriotic utterances so displeas- 
ing to the anti-war and copperhead sentiment of the community that 
much support was withdrawn from the paper. (Citizens of Hacken- 
sack were rabid in their opposition to the Union cause.) The next tWo 
copies of the paper were issued under the guidance of "The Devil," who 
wrote Finis to the history of The Bergen County Journal, a fine type 
of "country newspaper." 

It was during the conscription days of the war period that the 
copperhead element of the community raised its head, displayed its 
poisonous fangs and hissed enmity to the cause of the Union. There 
were numerous tents on the Green, where a squad was on duty for re- 
cruiting. Jerry Demarest, deputy United States marshal, was especial- 
ly obnoxious to the non-Union element, and one evening a hoodlum 
crowd gathered and proceeded to rag him. He escaped through the 
aid of a friend, before a party of armed Republicans assembled and 
put the rabble to rout. This was only one incident indicating an an- 
tagonistic sentiment to the administration. The Republicans placed a 
Liberty Cap on the top of a flagpole on the Green. Democrats bored 
holes in the pole near its base, filled them with powder and the dis- 
charge jarx'ed the cap off the pole. And it is said that the crowd tore 
up the flag that was flying from the pole. While Democrats were thus 
active in opposition to the war the leaders of that party were profit- 
ing by traflSc in bounty swindles. 

It was in 1861 that the old town received the first call to arise, 
stretch itself and throw off the lethargy of the past. Accoi'ding to 
an ancient of days with a memory as long as his patriarchal white 
beard, people from the surrounding country, especially the young folks, 
walked barefoot to the edge of the village; then they would brush the 
dust from their feet and sturdy ankles, don stockings and shoes and 
proceed decorously to church. This system of economy, made practical 
today, would be a sad blow to shoe profiteers. 

Now the railroad was built from the Erie near Rutherford (then 
Boiling Springs) to Essex street, Hackensack. Richard Doremus, who 
ran a stage to Hoboken and to Boiling Springs — the latter to accommo- 
date commuters on the Erie — abandoned the stage lines and was made 
the first conductor on the steam railroad. The first trains ran to Essex 
street; then the line was extended to Passaic street; next a block 
further to Anderson street; then to New Bridge (afterward to Cherry 
Hill, now North Hackensack), and next to Hillsdale. The fii'st "train" 
was composed of the locomotive, tender and one car, and the schedule 
time from Essex street to Long Dock (Jersey City) was fifty minutes. 



One day the Hackensack draw-bridge was open for a schooner beating 
up against the wind. Engineer Ben Carley — perhaps inspired by a 
thought that he could jump the gap — ran his machine into the river. 
The car broke loose and hung over the edge, about two-thirds on the 
rails. This gave the passengers opportunity to escape unharmed, 
while Carley and fireman Dory Van Buren swam ashore. Everybody 
had a remarkably narrow escape, since the bowsprit of the schooner 
perforated the side and roof of the iron car. It would have made a 
splendid scene for a movie. It was many years from that date before 
the Erie company would permit a locomotive of the Hackensack line 
to run on its rails — they had to stop at the junction, where the cars 
were attached to Erie trains. 

James Blauvelt, second conductor on this new railroad that carried 
citizens so expeditiously to and from the city, is living in Hackensack 
today, up in the eighties as to age and vigorous in health. "Jim" Blau- 
velt became the most popular employe of the railroad as well as winning 
great favor with his neighbors; as a result of which regard he was 
nominated for sheriff on the Democratic ticket. But the bosses of the 
party did not look upon him with favor, and according to the custom 
under such conditions, the leaders and their most prominent workers 
"went hunting" on election day, and "Jim" Blauvelt was defeated. At 
that date a Democratic nomination was equivalent to an election when 
the leaders were in harmony with the nominee, which Avas never the 
case where there was doubt of their ability to control the winner. 

Coming down the years to half a century ago, the stranger found 
at least parts of Hackensack to present a beauty and charm present in 
few other places. Essex street, with its tall over-arching trees, was 
an avenue in Arcadia. The early riser, strolling along this inviting 
highway, up the slope to the crest of Red Hill, could revel in the ravish- 
ing beauty of a summer sun coming over the distant Palisades, and 
flooding the sky v/ith rose tints; here and there wood or ravine showed 
in deep shadow^, while the course of the distant river was traced along 
its turns and reaches by miasmatic mists soon to be dispelled by the 
glowing warmth of daj'. And then the matin music of myriad song- 
birds enchanting the listener! Red Hill was a delightful retreat from 
the fervid heat of mid-afternoon. Here one could lie in the shadow of 
wide-spreading branches, with or without Bread, Wine, Verse and Thou, 
dream the happy hours away watching fleecy fleets scudding across the 
blue sky, and in the distance an occasional sailing craft, canvas flap- 
ping idly, moving lazily on the sluggish tide between shores of far- 
reaching marshland. An enchanted spot for the idler seeking release 
from the haunts of man. And here one could wander in the cool of 
evening when the shadows lengthened as the sun dipped behind the 



rampart of mountains forming the western horizon, creating a picture 
to inspire painter's brush and poet's pen. The moment suggests the 
"Sunset" of Velma West Sykes: 

Across the western sky the gold-edged clouds 
Stand, like huge mountains that their outlines shift, 
While in the east a twilight arch appears 
And tips with crimson bridal veils that drift 
Across the pale moon's face. 

The sun's last fiery lance now pierces through 
The clouds, and like a mist the twilight creeps, 
Flooding the valleys, climbing to the hills — 
Night spreads the couch where weary Nature sleeps ; 
The sun has left no trace. 

Now, while the bright moon rides 'mid starry isles. 
And sheds its borrowed light upon the earth, 
We know the sun has never really set. 
But for day's death the night would have no birth — 
So rule the laws of space. 

And when our souls have crossed the mystic line 
Where lie beyond the Blessed Isles of Light, 
Though we are gone, perhaps our lives may shed 
Some rays to pierce the gloom of someone's night — 
Till time shall them erase. 

In the earlier dates of this chronicle there was merely a common 
wagon track on the Heights, from Essex street to Passaic street. The 
only buildings within this territory were the farm house of J. B. Conk- 
lin and the Thoma Jewelry Factory with the dwellings of employes, 
standing about where the residences of Mallet, Ramey and Oliver are. 
On what is now Hospital Place were the residences of E. M. Mason and 
Horatio Bogert, the latter being later the entrance to the hospital. 
South of Essex street were the residences of Frederick Jacobson and 
Henry F. Kent, which are still standing but owned by other parties; 
below them, on Pclifly road, was the residence of Edward E. Poor, and 
north of it on the corner the old farm house of Jane Demarest. The 
dwellings for the jewelry factory were moved down the east side of 
the hill to what is now Third street and remodeled into acceptable res- 
idences. A dramatic incident in the history of the Thoma factory was 
furnished by a noted burglar named Captain Marshall, who robbed the 

9 



place and buried a real pot of gold under a nearby tree. When be re- 
turned to get the loot he was aiTested, but through the skill of his 
counsel ("Young Garry" Ackerson) he escaped punishment for the 
crime. The evening of the day when the Captain was released the 
lawyer gave him $2 and said: "Now, damn you, get away from here 
before you are taken on a more serious charge." Being a criminal of 
discernment. Captain Marshall stood not upon the order of his going 
but covered the distance to Fort Lee ferry at his best speed. What 
is now the attractive grounds of the Hackensack Golf Club was then a 
meadow where lowing kine fed on lush grass. In fact, nearly all of 
Red Hill was then farm land, where parties of youth went nutting by 
day and lovers went "nutty" under the shimmering moon's seductive 
glow. Passaic and Essex were the only streets running west of the 
railroad. 

The streets of the town were mud beds in wet seasons and dust 
beds when dry — on occasions of sudden wind storms in summer dust 
clouds suggesting desert sand storms obscured the sunlight and caused 
the tidy housewife to mourn for her scrupulously groomed home. 
Cross-town streets were so miry that drivei's of delivery wagons fre- 
quently refused to venture upon them. An incident is recalled when the 
carriage of Frederick Jacobson, then president of the Hackensack Im- 
provement Commission, was mired on Essex street west of the railroad 
crossing; planks had to be broupht before he could be rescued and the 
team and vehicle released. 

In the way of giving credit, it is appropriate to state that the 
cross-streets of the town were named by Judge John Huyler, who 
selected for them the names of several counties of the state: Essex, 
Morris, Bergen, Warren, Mercer, Salem, Camden, Passaic. The Judge, 
who seems to have been a somewhat public-spirited citizen, was knock- 
ed down on Court street bridge by a drunken man and died from the 
injury received. 

But it took many years for the spirit of public enterprise to stir 
the people of the town. Time was when none but property owners 
could vote for commissioners or be elected commissioner; and on one 
occasion a $100 lot was purchased for an impecunious Democrat who it 
was desired to have on the municipal body. When a movement for 
permanent street improvement was started it met with determined 
opposition; the idea of spending $60,000 for macadamizing was looked 
upon as starting Hackensack on the road to ruin. Nevertheless, ma- 
cadam won — and that was the beginning of good road building in the 
county seat. Time's mutations won against the handicap of an old 
Dutch clement averse to modern ideas of improvement and comfort. 
Since that period the town has kept in fair step with the march of 

10 



progress: note this especially in the splendidly equipped fire depart- 
ment with its motor apparatus, perfect alarm system, and constantly 
drilled firemen always on duty — a fire-fighting department equal to the 
best in the cities. And at this writing a new department headquarters 
has been built on State street neax'ly opposite the post office, while the 
old fire house is to be converted into police headquarters with a public 
comfort station adjoining. 

Sidewalks are always an interesting subject — to some, a fascina- 
tion; therefore not to be passed over without suitable observation. As 
far back as 1861 a writer in The Journal commented upon an "aris- 
tocratic tendency" on the part of certain people who were removing 
boards and putting down flagstone walks. But these were isolated in- 
stances; the "aristocracy" was limited and not given to ostentatious 
displays of affluence. Thousands of feet of narrow boards remained 
to warp in the fervid sun and then rise up to strike the pedestrian in 
tender spots or trip him to a fall that called for objurgatory language 
that required expiatory orisons. The gaslights were so dim that a 
tallow dip was insulted by comparison, and people had to carry lanterns 
v>^hen abroad at night. Electric lights of today are not deemed satis- 
factory, but incandescent lamps are a fairly acceptable illuminant — 
preferable to blinding lights on motor vehicles. And it is worthy of 
note that the electric lights are not run by old moon schedule, being 
unlighted between the first and last quarter of the moon, whether it 
v/as aglow or under cloud obscuration. Many 100 candle power lights 
are being installed at conspicuous points, showing that the Commission 
wishes to let its light shine with appropriate brilliance. 

Business men of old Hackensack, generally trading in a small way, 
may be presented as follows — beginning at Morris street and moving 
north up Main: Feldman, Benz, Sam Hooter (the first Jew in the 
town), Aunt Patty's candy shop, John Will Terhune, Dave Huyler, 
Demarest, Billy Christie, Stephen Terhune, 'Squire Zabriskie, First 
National Bank, Mansion House, Jake Tanis, Adams' drug store. South 
of Morris street v.'as the home of Counselor Manning M. Knapp, after- 
ward Justice of the Supreme Court, a talented gentleman who manifest- 
ed pride in fruits, flowers and amateur astronomy. His next door 
neighbor was Dr. Henry A. Hopper, leading physician. The homes of 
David Terhune and "Young Garry" Ackerson faced the end of Main 
street. On the corner of Main and Hudson was Ed. Earle's general 
store, afterward Terhune & Westervelt (David Terhune and E. Erskine 
Westervelt). Next came the creek, where the schooner A. 0. Zabriskie 
delivered freight once a week. Adjoining the creek on the north was a 
two-story building where The Journal was printed, in which the Bergen 
County Democrat was started, and in which Cap. Walters conducted 

11 



an oyster house that was a popular resort where people representing 
all types of social cult ate oyster stews the recipe for making which 
was an art that perished with Cap. Walters. One of those stews, with 
a dish of "oyster crackers," is a memory to evoke a sigh. The 
John L. Earle residence stood near the comer of Main and Court 
streets, at the Avest end of the new court house plot. Around the cor- 
ner on Court street was George Halstead's Bazar, and Louis Napp's 
locksmith and gunsmith shop. Continuing up Main street from Ber- 
gen, business names include Dick Paul Terhune (now House of Flow- 
ers); Wm. Winant, shoemaker; Shuman, the man who favored the 
Journal's editor with cake and cookies; "Daddy" Burnsides, whose little 
shop had liberal patronage; Louis Perrot, a butcher who dressed his 
own meat and became a town commissioner; Mrs. Conklin, dealer in 
latest style millinery; Voorhis & Westervelt, grocers, afterward Bar- 
tholf; the Bank of Bergen County, in Bicher's building; Hopper, W. 
W. Harper, Van Park's grist m.ill, Bax & Son, Dr. R. W. Farr, Van 
Buskirk, Berry & Sons, Cleveland, Irish. The old county clerk's office 
stood where the Susquehanna railroad tracks now cross Main street, 
and Dr. George Terhune's office was a neighbor. Across the street, 
standing in a large plot of ground, was the old Moore mansion, a build- 
ing around which many weird ghost stories were woven by persons of 
fantastic imagination. Jake Lozier, the postmaster and grocer, known 
for the fervency of his appeals to the Throne of Grace in Methodist 
meetings, comes in here; then George Ackerman, sash and blind 
maker. A jump from Ackerman to Anderson Hall and John J. Ander- 
son's store, while on the opposite corner is found the store of John H. 
T. Banta in an old stone building a part of which fell in some months 
ago; and a block up, comer of Ward street, was Jacob Demarest, 
undertaker. Living near to Dr. M. R. Brinkman's home was Anthony 
Fatan, the man who paid the late Patrick Byrne to restore the slab 
on the grave of General Poor. On the northwest corner of Main and 
Passaic streets (now Bedell's garage) stood a stone building known 
as the "Old Fort." Here Dr. W. H. Hall had a drug store, V/ill Hen 
Ackerman a market and residence; and in this building in February, 
1865, the proposed charter members of Pioneer Lodge, Free and Ac- 
cepted Masons, met and prepared their petition to the Grand Lodge. 

Let us saunter back to the lower part of the village and observe 
life around the Green, which has always been the focal point for events 
of public and private concern. When Lafayette visited this country he 
rode through Hackensack on his way to Paterson; young women 
strewed flowers in front of his horse and he was entertained at the old 
Campbell Tavern. The committee of entertainment was composed of 
the socially select, with the most charming daughters assisting their 

12 



mothers at table. Aunt Sophie Earle was one of the favored misses, 
and it was her delight to recite her remembrance of the event even up 
to a short time before her death, which occurred at the age of one 
hundred and one years. The writer of these rambling notes takes 
Satanic pride, as it were, in boasting that he vamped Aunt Sophie on her 
one hundredth birthday and kissed her on one of her rosy cheeks; and 
he informs prohibitionists, with bubbling glee, that the dear old girl 
was soothed to sleep every night by an honest to goodness "night cap." 
Will some "dry" stand up and assert that she might have lived many 
years more had she refi'ained from flirting with the Demon in the 
poisonous bowl? 

On the south side of the Green stood the Hackensack House, a 
tavern dating back into the Revolutionary period, at least as to one 
part of the building. Here was shown for many, many years a table 
bearing the hole of a bullet fired through a window by a Hessian 
soldier when the hirelings of the English passed through this village. 
Ob. Van Saun, Pete Van Riper, John Ryan and Billy Cronkright were 
well kno-WTi successive proprietors of this house. The place, especially 
during Ryan's management, was the rendezvous for lively sleighing 
parties from Paterscn, Englewood, Union Hill, Hoboken and other 
localities. When the wild men and women came up from Hudson 
county they owned the house from wine cellar to attic — especially the 
cellar. As indicating the condition of affairs on such occasions the 
fact is related that one night a Sunday school party stopped for re- 
freshments and ordered twenty lemonades. The barkeeper didn't pause 
in his task of filling wine glasses with the bubble stuff but answered, 
"Oh. hell, we've got no time to mix soft drinks." It was Bob McCaig's 
political followers, with their wives, sweetheai'ts, etc., who were in 
possession. There v.'ere several fine singers in the party and their 
songs were applauded by the company, with emphasis of popping corks 
flfying ceilingward followed by showers of fizz water. In the dancing 
there were no shimmies, trots, tangoes or glides, but the good old 
lancers, schottische, waltz, and varsouvienne were turned into a revel 
more hilarious than any seen in Belgium's capital on a certain night 
memorable in the history of the Little Corporal. At moments when 
the young blood ran too swiftly Bob McCaig appeared upon the scene 
and admonished his followers that they must not forget the limit — 
being in a strange land they must set a good example. Those familiar 
with a Hudson county crowd on a sleigh ride can understand the 
"limit." Under Pete Van Riper's rule the house had wide repute for 
the clambakes served to patrons, especially the butchers who came 
from Washington Market — a somewhat free-and-easy crowd that did 
not hesitate to "run" the toll-gates. But on one occasion Tom Pickens, 

13 



who kept the Little Ferry gate, opened the draw-bridge and held them 
up until thej'^ made good. During one of those old-fashioned winters 
occasionally referred to today by people on the thither slope of time, 
the Hackensack House v/as open day and night, Sunday included, for 
three weeks. The Mansion House was also largely patronized. Hun- 
dreds of "mill girls" were brought over from Paterson to study rural 
life and customs; and parties came in from remote villages and farm- 
ing communities. All these, with jingling bells, blast of horas, 
laughter and singing, filled the nights with music. Many parties from 
Hackensack went up to Johnny Ramsey's at "Wyckoff, Dave Naugle's 
Paramus road house, (a real old-time tavern), or to Wortendyke's at 
Hillsdale, where Yaan Moore or "Nigger Glaus," raised upon a table 
in one corner, scraped his old fiddle and called the figures of the lancers, 
while light and heavy feet made the floor shake. Wortendyke had a 
marvelous recipe for old-fashioned hot spiced rum which he com- 
pounded in a large earthen crock and maintained at even temperature. 
Give a Volstead agent today one tumbler of that beverage and he would 
cry, "Repeal that act! Prohibition is dead, never to be I'esurrected!" 
And who recalls those farther back days when the dance hall at 
Naugle's was lighted with candles the tallow from which dripped do\vn 
upon the shoulders of women sitting upon benches under the ledge 
above where the "dips" were ranged? Oh, sweethearts and wives! 
Those dear departed days (and nights), when life was one blissful 
round of joyous revelry, chicken dinners and — home with the girls in 
the morning! The youth of nineteen twenty-two imagines that life is 
devilish, but it hasn't even a dream of fifty and more years ago when 
present grandsires and some greats drained the cup of unalloyd hap- 
piness. 

But even the halcyon happiness of those who took their pleasure 
in large sleighing parties had merely a demure form of winter pleasure 
compared with the festivities described by "Young Garry," Abe Camp- 
bell (each prosecutor of the pleas in succession), and Nick Demarest 
(afterward sheriff') : When they were young and life was rushing at 
the flood, a party of a dozen or more, each fellow with his own "girl" 
and fancy cutter, started out and made a round of popular taverns or 
homes for three or four days, winding up at that old Vanderbeck 
Tavern in this spry hamlet with a rollicking jollification. Looking at 
that "humbly" pile of old stones today — only the imagination can pic- 
ture it as the scene of social splendor and hilarity of "them days that 
was but hain't to be no more forever." [Since penning these lines the 
old landmark has been removed.] 

Looking at Main street today, who would imagine that it was at 
one time a race course where blooded horses and sporty owners skim- 

14 



med the surface of snow and ice in competition for the speed marathon 
prize — wagers "on the side," for there was no open betting. This 
winter race course attracted people in great crowds, even from Pater- 
son and Passaic; they stood two and three deep on both sides of the 
street from the railroad crossing to the Mansion House, which was the 
goal. A woman from Passaic drove a fine sorrel that had speed and 
endurance which kept the mere men guessing where they were at. She 
was sporty but modest, and was loudly applauded. Winners were 
cheered; bartenders worked at high pressure; wine flowed in the par- 
lors, while the real stuff with a bite to it was tossed across the bar and 
down the throats of admirers of the racers and their drivers, the win- 
ners usually "paying the shot." Abe Brownson, who had the Mansion 
House in the early seventies, was something more than a taveni 
keeper; he was a man with capacity for conducting a hotel, and as such 
was widely known. While resident of Hackensack he became a noted 
personality, especially when driving his piebald horse attached to a 
light buggy. 

Coming back to the Campbell tavern: The old chronicles tell us 
that Washington, who slept in the new residence of "Mr. Zabriskie," 
now the Mansion House, on the occasion of his retreat from Fort Lee, 
his army resting on the Green, had his meals served from the tavern 
table; and when he mounted his charger to start across the Jerseys, 
proprietor Archie Campbell handed him a "stirrup cup" of wine; and 
if the historian is correct Father George advised Archie to remain 
neutral when the British came in — sound advice under the circum- 
stances. 

In that same old "public" there was an upper room reached by an 
outside stairway. In that apartment at a later period Democrats held 
their political meetings, which were occasionally marked by vigor of 
speech and action. At one of these parleys some form of disturbing 
element gained the ascendancy, the proceedings becoming so obstreper- 
ously annoying that Sam Dawson and Captain Dick Hawkey had to 
clear the room. Those who recall these two stalwarts have no hesitancy 
in crediting the story of the animated scene that ensued when they 
broke into action. "Old Sam Dawson" v^^as a man of rugged physique; 
one hand had been mutilated by the loss of two fingers, but his grip 
was vice-like; as to his voice, it was a suppressed roar, and his valor 
undaunted. On one occasion he challenged an offending citizen to 
mortal combat, and wags encouraged the joke to the point of inducing 
the old fellow to march up Red Hill at daylight armed with a rusty old 
sword. The old challenger returned in due time, a hungry and angrier 
man, declaring: "The dam coward didn't come up; but I'll thrash him 
the first time I see him." "Dawson Row," on the south side of Morris 

15 



street west of Main, was a landmark known to all residents; and in 
one of the little buildingr. "Daddy Alcock" served oysters and ale, a 
favorite refection of the day. 

Another Old Timer of this period and locality was Abe Van 
Sciven, familiar to some as "The Harbinger of Spring," a title earned 
by his habit of appearing in his shirt sleeves at the first mellowing of 
what seemed to be departing winter's temperature; then he would be 
found at the corner of Main and Morris streets, chewing tobacco and 
dispensing oracular viev/s with the positiveness of a village gossip 
intrenched in his leadership. When a doubter was informed that "Abe 
Van Sciven said so," the argument was sealed. Abe was the father of 
"Benny," a chip of the old block in some respects; but Benny v/as 
under the spell of wanderlust and was never in Hackensack long enough 
to become a corner fixture. The winter through which we have just 
passed was mild, but bore no relationship to that balmy year when 
Abe Van Sciven appeared on New Year's day with his shirt sleeves 
rolled to the elbow, deceiving the birds of the air and leading clothiers 
to reduce the price of top coats. This incident of one Old Timer admon- 
ishes the narrator where he would "arrive at" should he wander afield 
without compass or rudder. 

Time is on the wing, and 't were better to hasten with him. Here 
is the "Washington Institute," corner of Main and Warren streets. In 
this building, where there is a public school class on the upper floor 
and The Hackensack Republican has its home on the first, the modeni 
school system of Hackensack was born. Here "Shorty" Williams, 
Waltermire and Wilcox sti-uggled with the young idea; and Bob Amos, 
a reliable authority on many questions of the past, confessed that 
"Shorty used to whale us boys good and proper." Occasionally a 
citizen with silver-gray locks enters The Republican office on business 
and glancing around remarks: "I got some of my education in this 
building; I used to set (they rarely sit) right over there." It is ad- 
mitted that discipline was lax in the Washington Institute school at 
this period; but one day a new teacher was introduced. He was a 
young man of athletic build, with full chin whisker, a voice to command 
attention and an eye to engage respect. The pupils were not long in 
deciding that Nelson Haas (afterward Ph. D.) was the school master 
as well as teacher. He had the backing of the three trustees of the 
district, David Terhuns, Judge George W. V\'^heeler and James M. Van 
Valen (afterward County Judge). They wei'e men of fine intellect and 
business ability, and two of them had been school teachers. Recogniz- 
ing the talent of young Haas, they gave him full sway. That his career 
was a verification of their judgment and confidence is known to many 
citizens of Hackensack. It soon developed that Hackensack v/as in 

16 



need of better school facilities, and one night, after a stormy discussion 
that shook the walls of the old Institute, the anti-improvement element 
was routed by a large majority, a new building was voted, and Union 
street school was the result. The school system was fostered and ex- 
panded by Dr. Haas until it became noted throughout the state and 
beyond. His pupils won so many cadetships to West Point and 
Annapolis, under competitive examinations for children in the three 
counties of the congressional district, that some of the competing 
schools ungenerously implied possible unfairness in the examinations. 
At length one member of congress declined to order a competition — he 
appointed a boy of his personal choice to West Point, and that lad was 
"plucked" when he took the entrance examination at the Military 
Academy. Dr. Haas was an ideal educator — a teacher who taught his 
pupils; he did not merely give them tasks and leave them to succeed 
or fail without assistance where that was necessary. While brusque of 
manner, peppery of temper, and a disciplinary martinet, his pupils 
generally held him in high esteem for kindness and helpfulness in 
leading them over the stumbling blocks of study in lessons beyond the 
grasp of their young minds. He had little patience with shirkers — 
slackers of the school room — but he took especial piide in the boy or 
girl who displayed zeal and determination in overcoming difficulties. 
He was an admirer of American grit in our youth. Some of his friends 
called Dr. Haas "Old Mathematics," for there was little in that science 
v/hich he could not master. He was the man who laid the foundation 
for the splendid school system of Hackensack and built the magnificent 
superstructure which stands today a monument to his remai'kable 
talent and achievement. Because of this exceptional teacher and 
executive of the school room many have been led to believe that there 
is something beyond mere figures and signs in mathematics and the 
relation of that study to higher and better education. And yet some 
moderns taboo "math." 

Before the Washington Institute was rebuilt of brick in 1847, 
it was a stone building standing sidewise to Main street. It was then 
a private school presided over by Dr. Peter Wilson, noted patriot, pro- 
fessor in Columbia University and member of Assembly. In the latter 
capacity, the question of locating Queen's College (Rutgers) at New 
Brunswick or Hackensack, came up and Dr. Wilson's modesty would 
not permit him to cast the deciding vote for his own town. That is 
why Hackensack is not a college town. 

This old Washington Institute was also, at one time, the home 
of the Hackensack Library Association and the Hackensack Lyceum. 
Religious services, lectures, concerts and other entertainments were 
held in that upper room; and there the first service of the Episcopal 

17 



(Christ) church was held. May it be that the kindly spirits of past 
associations have the editor of The Republican in their keeping, inbue 
him with gentleness and tenderness toward his fellow men and women, 
and smooth for him the rugged path and strife of a wandei'er in this 
vale of wickedness ? 

The Hackensack Library Association was organized about 1871, 
and had as first officers these well-known gentlemen: Fi'ed'k Jacobson, 
sr., president; Dr. R. W. Farr, treasurer; W. Irving Comes, secretary; 
E. E. Poor, James Quackenbush, W. I. Comes, John N. Gamewell, trus- 
tees. Mrs. Julia Friend was librarian for eight years — she and Mr. 
Comes are the only survivors of those named. In 1877 the young men 
of the Lyceum took charge of the Library (which was in the Institute). 
In 1885 the "Library Girls" assumed the management of this growing 
institution, and by faithful devotion and unselfish effort maintained a 
circulating medium for the entertainment and edification as well as 
education of citizens who sought recreation and knowledge through 
the volumes procured with the scanty means grudgingly provided. 
These names of "Library Girls" are copied from the records: Misses 
Carrie Acton, Willie Angle, Belle Britton, Eddie Broughton, Kittie 
Chrystal, Annie Gumming, Lillie Gumming, Mary Gamewell, Effie 
Gardner, Eva Hasbrcuck, May Moses, Nina Price, Kittie Rennie, (Mrs.) 
J. A. Romeyn, Jennie Sage, Anna Stagg, Fannie DeWolf Conklin, 
Emily Taplin, Susan Taplin, Anna Williams (now Dr. Anna, bacterio- 
logist in New York city), Helen F. Voorhis. To these a member adds 
the names of Jennie Hatfield, Amelia Williams, Mrs. H. Myers Bogert, 
Louise Clarendon, and Edith Bogert. 

The nucleus established by fii'st makers of the Library and 
fostered by the labor of love of the young grew into the present splen- 
did Johnson Public Librar3r provided through the liberality and public 
spirit of the Hon. William M. Johnson. It is now maintained at public 
expense. Citizens who sometimes feel that the number of new books 
placed upon the shelves should be materially increased to meet the 
growing demand should consider the fact that the institution is in the 
hands of an experienced librarian (Miss Mary Boggan) and is managed 
with economy in every detail. Two or three thousand dollars a year 
added to the running expense fund would go far toward meeting the 
increased demand for books. 

One of the most popular organizations of the past in Hackensack 
was Company C, Second Battalion. It was formed October 8, 1872, 
through the efforts of Counselor James M. Van Valen. Counselor 
Garret G. Ackerson, jr., was chosen captain; James M. Van Valen, first 
lieutenant; Nicholas C. Demarest, second lieutenant. George T. Har- 
ing, formerly of the crack Seventh New York, was first sergeant and 

18 



drillmaster, positions which he filled in a manner that brought the 
company up to a degree of enviable proficiency in the manual of arms; 
and subsequently, when John Engel was made a lieutenant, Company 
C became known as the prize skirmish drill command of the New 
Jersey National Guard. This company's first active field duty was in 
the railroad strike of '77, when it was stationed at Port MuiTay guard- 
ing railroad property while anxious ones at home wondered how their 
dear boys were faring. This campaign was scarcely less strenuous 
than the week of the great Deckerto\^^l encampment on the farm of 
General Judson Kilpatrick, the dashing cavalry commander in the 
Army of the Potomac. The General was a regular traveler on the 
Susquehanna railroad, where he became acquainted with many Hack- 
ensack men, and when he arranged for his war celebration Company 
C had to take the most prominent part. Thousands of people from all 
parts of New Jersey flocked to the little town in the hills of Sussex 
and walked the two or more miles of the dustiest roads imaginable 
to the General's farm, where sleek belted cattle grazed on hill, slope 
and meadow. It was in this beautiful though dust-covered environ- 
ment that Company C, commanded by Lieutenant Engel, covered itself 
with glory all its own and won the admiration of the onlooking thou- 
sands, especially those beautiful and buxum Sussex county girls. 
When the battery of artillery on one of the hilltops began to thunder 
defiance, Lieutenant Engel gave the command, "Fix bayonets!" then 
"Charge!" the deployed column of grim heroes of the coal pockets of 
Port Murray started at double quick, and in about ten minutes there- 
after, when the smoke of conflict had floated away and the lowing kine 
bellowed from the adjacent tall timber, the cornfield thx'ough which the 
charge had passed was a scene as the morning after the night when 
"the Assyrian came down like a wolf on the fold" — not a stalk nor ear 
was seen where they had so lately been. The havoc was horrifying, 
and there is no record in the history of Sussex county of a day when 
the stock of Apple Jack was so nearly reduced to a condition of parch- 
ing drought. There is avouchment for the declaration that the con- 
tents of a ten-gallon "kag" which a certain well-known politician car- 
ried into Company C's camp on his broad shoulders the previous night, 
under the eyes of the Man in the Moon, were drained to the last drop 
and late comers were fain to content themselves with the aggravation 
of a "whiff from the bung-hole." Company C's original roster con- 
tained 118 names; of these 32 are accounted for as alive today. 

The Hackensack Lyceum was an important factor in the social life 
of Hackensack. Members contributed personally in the entertainment 
of the public, and as a body were instrumental in securing prominent 
lecturers and professional talent for concerts, etc. Names of the 

19 



Lyceum members, furnished by several survivors, are given herewith: 
Milton Demarest, Peter W. Stagg, James A. Romeyn, Walter Christie, 
Frederick Lydecker, H. Edgar Mason, Thomas B. Chrystal, Frederick 
Jacobson, jr., Arthur Curtis, G. B. Harper, James M. Gardner, E, A. 
Spear, Frederick A. Poor, Frank D. Gamewell, A. S. Demarest, H. C. 
Budlong, John H. Cadmus, Abram DeBaun, J. P. Campbell, Walter F. 
Farr, Arthur W. Pierce, Robex-t Gillham, M. C. Gillham, John Chrystal, 
Philip H. Williams, Holden Speer, E. P. Macomber, Charles A. Conklin. 

In addition to the Old Church on the Green and the stone part of 
the Washington Mansion House, Hackensack has several buildings 
dating back of the century mark into those "days that tried men's 
souls." The most wayback of these is the "Old Stone House" on Essex 
street west of the railroad crossing, now owned and occupied by 
Counselor John S. Mabon, whose wife is a granddaughter of the Brink- 
erhoff who was second owner of the premises. A stone in the east end 
of the house bears the date 1704, showing that it is 217 years old. 
On Main street north of Bergen is the Doremus house, owned by that 
"Dick" Doremus who was last of the stage drivers. Next north is the 
stone house of the first Adam Boyd, whose family was connected with 
the Revolutionary Schuylers; and men and women of an earlier day 
used to tell of the lavish hospitality dispensed where now fruits and 
vegetables, including onions and garlic, are sold. The second door 
north of The Republican office is the celebrated Peter Wilson house — 
on the lintel of one window is cut in the stone, "Peter Wilson, 1787," 
on the other, "Catherine Wilson." Fronting on Moore street, in the 
rear cf the Telephone Exchange, is the "Vanderbeck House," built in 
1717, and noted as the home of "Aunt Sally Hering." In cutting 
through the stone wall of this building to make a new doorway it was 
found necessary to use heavy chisel and hammers to break the solid 
mass of masonry put together when material and workers were honest. 
The Vanderbeck Tavern, the original part of Oritani Field Club house, 
and the Bogart house corner of Main and Ward streets, are all links 
v/ith the past. 

Visitors to the Mansion House will find two rooms of especial 
interest. They are the main parlor and Room 19 on the second floor, 
one with brown the other blue tiling in the blind fireplaces. These tiles, 
brought from Holland, picture well known Bible scenes: Here Daniel 
may be seen sitting on a rock surrounded by fawning lions that may 
have been borrowed from the zoo of a modern movie outfit; Joseph, 
the undefiled, who, like some of our Princeton students, never polluted 
his lips by kissing a woman, fleeing from Mrs. Potiphar, the original 
vamp, who holds his cloak in her grasp as she reclines invitingly on a 
couch; Pharaoh's daughter, who "went down to the water to bathe at 

20 



the close of the day" and found little Moses in his wicker basket among 
the rushes. And there are the wicked children of Jericho who mocked 
Elisha, crying "Go up, thou baldhead," and now being overtaken by 
savage bears hungering for the flesh of naughty kids; and Joseph's 
brethren casting him into a pit before they soil his coat with goat's 
blood and return home to tell dad how he was devoured by wild beasts; 
mark these Roman soldiers dicing for the Sivior's vesture; observe 
David preparing to sling the stone from the brook, the missile with 
which he tapped Goliath on the "coco" (as per Billy Sunday) and laid 
him out for decapitation and the obsequies; and many more pictures 
for the study of Bible students and others interested in sacred history. 
The Old Washington Mansion House, in this respect, supplies material 
found in no other local building of long ago. The Washington Bank 
was started in the Mansion House in 1856, with Samuel Taylor, then 
aged 17, as cashier. The bank was mcved next door to the building 
now called the "Van Valen Building," where one dark and stormy night 
(a night prepared for desperate deeds) yegg men, bandits of the period, 
carried oft* the strong box containing $50,000. The Washington Bank 
never recovered from this unkind treatment. It expired at the youth- 
ful age of twelve months. There is another side to this financial story, 
but charity's mantle shall be drawn about it. A sentence as to room 
19, appropriately secluded from prying eyes: In this sacred precinct 
Democratic slates were made and broken; jack pots were molded with- 
out potter's clay; kings and queens were enteiiiained. 

Anderson Hall, built in the sixties, was for a long time the only 
place v/here public entertainments were given, if the churches are ex- 
cepted; in the holy edifices, or their lectui-e rooms, lectures and a cer- 
tain class of concerts were permitted. Blind Tom was exhibited in the 
hall, and Henrietta Markstein, a pianist of marvelous skill, created a 
sensation there. Miss Markstein was a j'oung woman of physical 
spaciousness, and when she first appeared, attired in an elegant eve- 
ning feown, displaying massive bare arms, there was an audible mani- 
festation of rudeness in several titters; but after her first number, fol- 
lowed by the then popular variations on "Old Black Joe," the audience 
became i*apturous in demonstrations of delight. The tittering jays 
had never experienced piano music presented by an artist of this 
young woman's high merit, and she, sensing the caliber of that portion 
of her audience, ravished them with "popular" music in classic setting. 

At a much earlier period a Hackensack audience had the rare 
pleasure of hearing America's great prima donna, Madame Parepa, 
afterward Parepa-Rosa. We are told by a lady who was a young 
Miss at the date referred to, that Parepa was visiting a cousin, Mrs. 
Daniel Sins, who resided on Park street. This lady persuaded the great 

21 



artist to appear in a concert at Anderson Hall, and her reception was 
an experience similar to that of the pianist at a later period. Hacken- 
sack was not educated in opera music nor in the polite proprieties, and 
the singer was incensed at the boorish conduct manifesting musical 
illiteracy; but simple ballads, sung as only Parepa could sing them, 
proved that music within their understanding had charms to stir their 
very souls and set them "wild." 

This reminder will recall to many citizens of middle age, the grand 
opera program presented when the Company C Armory was dedicated. 
There was considerable feeling in the community over the fact that 
tickets were priced at $2.50, which was looked upon as outrageous and 
in the interest of "aristocratic uptown" (for there was a period when 
feeling between up-town and down-town was pronounced). After this 
opening of the armory (subsequently dignified as "Opera House") most 
entertainments were held in that auditorium. Local singing and in- 
strumental organizations gave their concerts there, many of them 
presenting soloists representing distinguished talent. And here 
"Count" Paulison introduced Hackensack audiences to high-class vau- 
deville once a year. 

But perhaps the most sensational public entertainment in Hacken- 
sack within a period of half a century was a local Minstrel show staged 
in Ii*ving Hall, the old three-story fram.e fire trap which occupied the 
site of the present Hackensack National Bank and the Hackensack 
Trust Company. The hall was on the third floor, and every person 
who attended meeting or show there felt that it was a case of "taking 
your life in your hands." 'Squire Sam. Campbell was a character of the 
town, his court being the scene of numerous incidents bordering upon 
the ridiculous and of the roaring farce type. John P. Campbell, a 
student in Counselor Knapp's office, but not related to the 'Squire, 
wrote a sketch entitled " 'Squire Kampbell's Kourt," which was not 
only the leading attraction of the minstrel show, but created such in- 
tense feeling that injunctions were talked of and actions for libel 
threatened. The show was given to an audience filling every foot of 
space in the room, while many could not get in. The building did not 
burn; although an injunction was served, there was no action for libel. 
This building was at one time known as Templar Hall, because the 
Good Templars held meetings upstairs while John Van Iderstina con- 
ducted a beer saloon in the basement and created "horrible examples" 
of Demon Rum victims. 

When Dr. St. John came to Hackensack he had his first oflfice in 
Templar Hall. Here, Jaines Ricardo had his undei-taker's office. A 
beer saloon, a doctor, an undertaker, with a druggist and a tombstone 
yard adjoining, constituted a combination of businesses rarely found in 

22 



such intimate and harmonious adjacency. The Hackensack Mutual 
Building and Loan Association was organized in Irving (formerly 
Templar) Hall and conducted business there for a time; and the Hack- 
ensack Republican had its birth on the second floor 

One of the important businesses of Hackensack sixty and more 
years ago was the carriage factory of W. H. Berry & Sons. Their car- 
riages had a repute over an extensive territory, standing in high favor 
for honest worth. Before the war much of their output was sold in 
the South. Like some other enterprises of the town the Berry house 
failed to keep pace with the march of progress, and the firm was even- 
tually forced out by competition less scrupulous in the class of work 
marketed. 

Having pointed out the structures that connect the past and pres- 
ent, furnishing material for the antiquarian, it is appropriate to note 
the fact that the first so-called modern or Queen Anne cottage erected 
in Hackensack was built for two young women, the Misses Ackerman, 
corner of State and Bergen streets; which gives opportunity for credit- 
ing women with being first to improve the residence architecture of the 
town. 

Within the half century residents have seen remarkable grovrth in 
improvements in building, public utilities, walks, streets, public and 
private conveyances, fire and police protection, postal facilities, 
churches, social organizations, etc. There are now three Reformed 
(once with the prefix "Dutch") churches, three Presbyterian (one 
colored), three Baptist (one colored), two Roman Catholic, one inde- 
pendent Catholic, one Protestant Episcopal, one polyglot, one Metho- 
dist, one Congregational, one Unitarian, one Christian Science, one 
Hebrew, with two or three less well known sects on the side, and the 
Salvation Army. Counting one church society to each 1,000 of popula- 
tion, Hackensack cannot be charged with undue religious fervor; but 
the people are not lacking in reverence for sacred things, and they have 
a decidedly commendable respect for the moral code. 

As to the police department, the time is almost fresh in mind when 
it was composed of one man; today it numbers 23 uniformed men, a 
clerk, a dog catcher; a Recorder whose chief duty is dealing out a cer- 
tain form of justice to the large and rapidly increasing number of 
motor vehicle law violators. 

While the Hackensack Heights Association is to be credited with 
initiating the development of the Heights section, the fact must not be 
lost sight of that Frank B. Poor bore a conspicuous part in creating the 
new town in the northwest, and made the Golf Club a possibility. His 
brief career benefitted many men who fawned upon him in prosperity 
and, characteristically, turned the cold shoulder and the cintical tongue 

23 



of detraction against him in the hour when he failed to come up after 
the last plunge. 

It is worthy of note that Leon H. Pratt was the pioneer to venture 
into the wilderness of Red Hill and establish a modern home there. 
His residence is now the second house on Overlook avenue, west side, 
south of Susquehanna street. 

Hackensack is well supplied with financial ahd savings-loan insti- 
tutions. The Hackensack National Bank has precedence with banks; 
next is the Hackensack Trust Company, with savings department; the 
North Jersey Title Insurance Company, the People's Trust and Guar- 
anty Company, vnth savings department; and now (December, 1921,) 
the City National Bank. The Hackensack Mutual Building and Loan 
Association dates from 1887, before the blizzard year. In addition there 
are the Industrial Building and Loan, the North Jersey Building and 
Loan, the Citizens' Building and Loan, the United Building and Loan 
— each a vital influence in the substantial upbuilding of the town; for 
every home owner takes personal pride in the community of which he 
is a unit, and the B. and L. associations must be credited with assisting 
hundreds of persons to build homes and have them free and clear. 

An enumeration of secret, social and fraternal organizations in- 
cludes the Free Masons, Chapter, Eastern Star, colored Freemasons, 
Odd Fellows, Encampment, colored Odd Fellows, Uhland (German) Odd 
Fellows, Rebekah Lodge, U. O. S. and D. and B. and S. of Moses, 
Daughters of Liberty, Junior O. U. A. M., Moose, Elks, Foresters, 
Royal Arcanum, Knights of Columbus, Red Men, National Union, 
Union League, Wheelmen, Golf Club, Oritani Field Club, Grand Army 
of the Republic; Spanish War Veterans, American Legion, Veterans of 
Foreign Wars, Company G of the Sixth Regiment, Boy Scouts, Camp 
Fire Girls. The Y. M. C. A., Red Cross, and Woman's Club are espe- 
cially important factors; the Health Centre with its several clinics 
stands out boldly; the Children's Relief and General Welfare Society 
does splendid work in a field indicated by its name. The Old Ladies' 
Home of Bergen County and the Bergen County Children's Home are 
located in the town. There is a splendid High School, five intermediate 
and grammar schools, and two parochial schools; and a new public 
school in contemplation for the First ward, where birth control is un- 
known. The Rotary Club may be classed with organizations having 
public improvement as an object, such as the Real Estate Association, 
Fifth ward. First ward, and West Side Improvement Associations. 

The Woman's Club of Hackensack is a youthful body, but it is of 
sufficient importance as a public influence to be accorded this brief 
sentence of perpetuation, for the writer holds it as a great moral force 
and a potent power for elevating the musical and intellectual as well as 

24 



social life of the city. Mrs. Charles Francis Adams was its founder. 

Hackensack has been rich in characters. They constituted the 
Setters' Club; occupied their favorite seats in front of stores or 
taverns when summer's shade was inviting, and on inclement days and 
in winter's chill, the bar-room or the grocery was the trysting place 
for old cronies, who swapped gossip of their past and present as they 
saturated with tobacco juice the sand-box in which the large globe stove 
stood. The Setters' Club in John H. T. Banta's store, the old stone 
building corner of Main and Passaic streets, was the aristocratic high- 
brow aggregation of Hackensack. Mr. Banta supplied them with free 
pipes imported from Scotland, each bowl bearing a Masonic emblem — 
Scottish Rite — but the members had to furnish their own tobacco. Here 
these brethera of the mystic level assembled during leisure hours, espe- 
cially o' winter nights, and discoursed of the beauties of life as set 
forth in the rare volume compiled by Hiram Abiff, wherein the master 
writ so glowingly and beautifully of brothei'ly love, and of loyalty as 
exemplified in the narrative of the widow's son. It is said that a copy 
cf this ancient volume is still extant in Hackensack carefully presex'ved 
by the master of Pioneer Lodge. 

Fishing was frequently the leading topic of the Setters, for there 
was a time — well, say, not more than twenty-five years ago — when the 
now polluted Hackensack river was rich fishing ground (sounds like 
slab-sided English to call a river "ground," doesn't it?) where white 
perch, striped bass, catfish, eels, an occasional shad, smelt, and at rare 
intervals a sturgeon, gladdened the hearts of net and line fishermen. 
Men, women, boys and girls in flat-bottom boats dotted the river from 
Kipp's Bend south to Muddy Buff. Jake Terhune was one of the most 
noted of those who spent the greater part of their time on the water 
during the open season. He was a typical "Lone Fisherman" in that 
he rarely had company. It was said that Jake communed with the fish; 
knew their secret haunts and feeding- grounds. He courted remote in- 
lets and creeks which had no attraction for the common crowd; and 
when amateurs rowed home laboriously in the evening shadows with 
empty boat and lunch basket, the yellow sail of Jake Terhune's skiff 
was seen afar, the breeze v/afting him northward, the water musically 
lapping the sides of his v/ell-loaded craft. Jake was tall and lank, 
bronze-featured and grizzle-whiskered, never without his pipe and bait- 
container (the pipe the solace, the bait the sustenance of a fisherman). 
John Hen Wygant v/as the friend of women and children; he let boats, 
furnished tackle and sold fish-bait (as distinguished from "bait"), and 
frequently acted as guide — glib, garrulous and saturated with river 
lore, there were few dull moments for those in John Hen's company. 
Billy Winant and Johnny Bertholf were cronies of the river who held 

25 



that Muddy Buff was the ideal spot for perch at certain seasons when 
tide, wind and general weather conditions were favorable. Like Jake 
Terhune and all other water dogs, they haunted quiet, out-of-the-way 
spots where the finest fish lurked. Cornele Bogert, who lived on River 
Road, Bogota, was another of the old fishermen; and of more recent 
data the late Sheriff Jake Van Buskirk won repute as a wizard with the 
drop-line — his fishing habitat was Berry's Creek, whence he took many 
large perch. On the river, just below Bogota, was "Benny's Mill," or a 
few timbers showing from the water where the mill once stood; this 
was considered one of the best spots near by and was favored by those 
who had little desire to row far afield — for rowing is rarely a pleasure 
for the tender of hand and spine. Then there was Overpeck Creek, an 
inviting water when the tide was right, and giving up an occasional 
striped bass of generous size. 

But fishing is no longer a pleasure, for there are few fish that have 
withstood the pollution of the stream by sewage and poisonous vileness 
from manufacturing plants. The one finny survivor was that hog fish, 
German carp, which was formerly taken in great quantities; but even 
it is dying out, as Charley Fleischman will testify. The crab, hard and 
soft, at one time taken by thousands every season, has left the Hack- 
ensack for more inviting waters; and crabbing parties, composed large- 
ly of vvTcmen and children who had rollicking fun in taking the sweet- 
meated shell-fish, are now a memory. 

Charley Fleischman, the leading net fisherman, tells of drawing in 
117 shad and 26,000 herring; the shad wer.e sold for ?6 a hundred and 
the herring were taken by farmers for fertilizer, thus serving to fatten 
crows by attracting them to the feast of fish and corn. Charley says: 
"I've deserted the nets and gone to work." Bellman's Creek, Garret's 
Reach^ Muddy Buff, Benny's Mill, Jim Pickens's "bait" house at Little 
Ferry, are now memories about which old men dream dreams 

In reeling in the last fishline let it be a compliment to woman, and 
no less a personage than "Granny" Dawson, loyal helpmeet of "Old 
Sam" of pleasant memory. "Granny" Dawson never went a-fishing in 
boats; she cast her line over the rail of Court Street Bridge, and on one 
occasion astonished the population of Hackensack by catching a shad 
on the hook. The oldest fishermen on the river from the^Sand Point at 
Wells's to Paterson plankroad bridge, had never heard of so remark- 
able a thing as a shad taking bait and being hooked. After that day. 
whenever men spun fish yarns, they were silenced with the inquiry: 
"But did you hear of Granny Dawson ketchin' a shad on a hook?" 

The fishermen named herewith were unconscious disciples of good 
Mr. Isaak Walton of placid memory, who has taught the discerning that 
fishing is an art to be learned by pi'actice. "For angling," he tells us, 

26 



"may be said to be so like the mathematics that it can never be fully 
learnt; at least net so fully, but that there will still be more new ex- 
periments left for the trial of other men that succeed us." 

The hack service of Hackensack was ever a subject for comment in 
family circle, sewing society and social gathering. Those who recall 
the inaugurator of this means of local transportation must have a 
lively recollection of Sam Dixon, a colored Jehu whose vehicle was a 
direct descendant of the Wonderful One Horse Shay, and collapsed on a 
certain occasion when it was bearing the Rev. Dr. HoUey to perform a 
wedding ceremony. Robert Johnson heired the business when Dixon 
went out, and met with a sad misfortune when his horse, turned out to 
pasture near Areola, was stung to death by bees. Wm. Savage, Ed. 
Lovett, John Smith, George Grasty were in the horse-hack service, the 
last of the line being Wm. Brower. The fare was originally ten cents 
for a ride to any part of the town. For several years Andrew Christie 
ran a stage from Anderson Hall to Essex street for railroad commuters. 
Things are speeding up, with more than a dozen auto hacks and fare 
regulated by ordinance. 

Of the more widely known characters of Hackensack, Michael M. 
Wygant is accorded precedence. Native and to the manor born, his 
name was one of the household words of Bergen county. He was noted 
as a horseman and follower of the hounds, joining "Old Joe" Donohue 
and Perry Belmont in this cross-country sport. "Mikey" Wygant was 
constable, court crier, auctioneer, and village oracle for more than half 
a century, being gathered to the fathers in the ripeness of time and ful- 
ness of years. 

William Henry Harrison followed in the footsteps of "Mikey," one 
of whose daughters he married, as constable, court crier and auctioneer, 
though never attaining his place of note in the field of sports. But 
"Bill" Harrison was noted as a fireman in the red-shirt days of the New 
York Volunteer Department, and brought with him to Hackensack the 
enthusiasm, wisdom, daring and skill of the b'hoys who "run wid de 
musheen" and battled for precedence in the halcyon days of old New 
York. 

The earliest street sprinkling cart was piloted by John Conklin. 
He took water from the river by backing his machine down a runway 
north of Court street bridge before a dock was built there. This pro- 
cess was possible only when the tide was in. Those citizens, business 
houses or residences, whose occupants subscribed for sprinkler service 
looked askance at neighbors whose street frontage remained dry, 
characterizing them in various terms reflecting upon lack of public 
spirit. 

27 



How many remember Tom Frylinck, the first newspaper carrier to 
establish a route for city papers? His route included Teaneck road 
as far as the old school house, across to New Bridge, and south to 
Colliconeck. He was succeeded by his sons Tony and Fred, the last- 
named still living in Hackensack. Tom Frylinck's route covered about 
fifteen miles. 

He who goes reminscencing must run against a stonewall or com- 
mit hari-kari if he would come to a conclusion, when the field of foray 
seems inexhaustible. Therefore, a newspaper worker of the old days 
is utilized as a suitable period to this ramble. His name is Ackerman 
Hawkey. Originally employed on the New Jersey Citizen and The Re- 
publican, he was with The Bergen County Democrat for many years, 
and later on the staff of The Bergen Daily News. Mr. Hawkey is not as 
old in years as this statement might imply; but he is a storehouse of 
local historical lore, and is especially versed in that mysterious legal 
output called election laws. 



GOOD-BYE, GENTLE READERS. 

You of the old days who are familiar with the incidents here 
corraled in print are asked to treat the inditer with that lenience to 
which unwitting lapse is entitled. Those who find in what is here set 
down something new to their ken will have to accept the babblings as 
they appear to the eye, with or without mental, reservation. A writer 
has said: "There is always something absurd about the past." Another 
has declared that all history is lies. And yet, the past and its history 
has a great fascination for many of our fellow men and sister 
women. There is at least a modicum of accuracy in these glimpses of 
old days which serve to give opportunity for comparison with the 
present. 

One who visualizes the village of Hackensack of fifty years ago, 
and compares it with the budding City of Hackensack of today, has a 
picture of the Old and the New that gives opportunity for profitable 
study and peradventure for pleasing reflection. Each period has its at- 
tractions. Thrice blessed is the mortal who can emerge from the past 
with its memories and enjoy the present with its new life unfolding 
from day to day. 



28 



L'ENVOIE. 

I invite you, fair reader, to cheer up, and in the rhyme of Mabel 
W. Phillips- 
Come Go With Me A-Gipsying. 

Come go with me a-gipsying 

Upon the greenwood trail; 
We'll join the caravan that winds 

Down to the distant sail; 
Our tent shall be a rose thicket, 

When night her blanket spreads; 
We'll rest upon earth's warm bosom 

With stars above our heads. 

The threnody of wild bird notes 

Shall wake us at the dawn; 
When we shall speed as fleet away 

As some shy woodland fawn; 
I'll bind your brow with daisies gold 

Beside some silvery stream; 
While you shall from their petals read 

The answer to my dream. 

Nor roofs nor walls shall hold us in, 

Far mountains, vales and sea 
We'll travel o'er if you'll consent 

To take the trail with me; 
No boundaries shall encompass. 

Wide, wide are our domains: 
We'll hark the bells at eventide 

Sound softly o'er the plains. 

And we'll turn back, no, never more; 

But fare on merrily: 
Sunsets and dawns shall find us far 

Upon the sim-lit sea; 
Islands and coral reefs we'll claim 

Fief held out for a day. 
Hail to the outbound caravan. 

Come, gipsy maid, away. 



29 



BENEDICTION. 

May the Hackensack of fifty years hence hold as much joy, peace, 
good cheer and happiness for those who travel the trail as the present 
bestows upon one who has ambled down the Bergen county calf paths 
of a vanished half century into the beautiful amiesite highways of 
nineteen twenty-two. May each deserving mortal "live in a house by 
the side of the road and be a friend of man." 

A voire sante! 



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